


Oh, Children

by protectoroffaeries



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AP Classes, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Most characters are just mentioned, Multi, Polyamory, Swearing, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectoroffaeries/pseuds/protectoroffaeries
Summary: Fran Laurens suddenly becomes the good child.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the hamlings are here!
> 
> I love these punks, I've been meaning to write them for awhile (they make bad choices tho honestly)
> 
> I got into the habit of calling philip pip because of Tumblr and never stopped 
> 
> drop me a comment if ya enjoy their shenanigans too

Fran is sitting on the kitchen counter, popping sour cream and onion potato chips into her mouth and idly checking her Facebook.

Facebook's pretty shitty, as far as social media sites go, but her aunts posts cute pictures of her cousins on a regular basis, and that's a good enough reason for her to keep the app. She likes a picture of Stevie, Peggy's four year old son. He's playing with a Barbie doll and a Batman action figure, and they both look familiar enough that Fran wonders if they weren't her own siblings’ toys at one point.

Ange, Fran’s younger sister, is in what Eliza generously calls the dining room. It's really more of an open space that's only cut off from the kitchen by the counter. The distance between the dining room table and the non-kitchen side of the counter is almost nonexistent; Fran could put her feet up on it if she had zero respect for Eliza's rules. They keep the table there because they have a fucking tiny house, especially for the number of people they have in the family. Fran's shared a room with Ange her entire life, and the boys - Fran's  _ five  _ fucking brothers - are split between two rooms. She's petitioned her parents (and she has four of those, three of which are alive) to move, but she shut up about it when she turned eighteen. Wouldn't wanna give Alex any reason to kick her out. Not that she thinks Papa would let him.

_ Anyway,  _ Ange is in the “dining room,” sitting at the table and doing her homework. Ange is taking five AP classes, and Fran often wonders how one can hate themselves so much as to choose to suffer like that. She took one AP class in her junior year of high school. Failed the class, World History, but she did pull a three on the test somehow. Her crazy sister is the spitting image of Alex in that they look alike, have the same temperament, and seem determined to work themselves into an early grave.

Fran's had her ups and downs with Alex Hamilton in the eighteen years they've known each other. Mostly downs. Fran often thinks they only manage to tolerate each other because they both love Papa. But the qualities she abhors in Alex (who is supposed to be a fucking  _ father figure _ ), she finds endearing in Ange. The constant working, the endless blabbering about nerdy stuff, the piss poor social skills, the ceaseless flirting - all of that looks better on Ange than Alex.

Maybe it's because they're sisters. Maybe it's because Ange is young. Maybe it's because Eliza is Ange’s mother, thus sparing her the asshole gene.

Or it's a combination of all three, Fran doesn't fucking know.

What she does know is that when she looks up from checking Facebook, Ange is writing  _ paragraphs  _ for her AP Stats homework. Fran is pretty sure Statistics is a math class, so she isn't sure what the hell is going on there. She watches as Ange finishes a sentence and starts drawing a fucking  _ picture _ next to the block of text, and thanks God that she didn't take that class in high school. She would've failed it. Who has the time to shove English  _ and  _ art into a goddamn math class? Fran wonders if all of Ange's classes require so much bullshit.

Ange finishes the picture, which looks like some sort of graph, and then she gives it a really long title. Then she heaves a sigh and shuts her Stats book.

“Christ, Ange, do all your classes require so much shit?”

Ange looks over at her. She really does look like Alex in the face - splotchy purple bags under her eyes and all. Fran bets she only sleeps three or four hours a night, which is crap because seventeen year olds are meant to hibernate at every opportunity. “They're college level courses, Fran,” Ange says in lieu of actually answering Fran's question. Whatever. Fran takes that as a  _ yes  _ anyway.

As for AP classes being college level course… well, maybe the material is advanced, but Fran's taken some college courses now, and most of her professors have been a lot more chill than any of her high school teachers were.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” Fran asks before eating another chip. Ange takes her eyes off Fran and grabs her AP Psych textbook instead. The textbook, which she asked for as a  _ birthday present _ so she could fucking write in it, is full of sticky notes and tabs. When Ange opens it up, it's highlighted and annotated in detail, and yet Ange pulls out a separate fucking notebook and starts taking  _ more  _ notes. 

Before Ange has a chance to lie to her again about how much she sleeps, the front door slams open and hits the wall. If Eliza were here, she'd throw a fit, but thankfully for whoever just walked in, she and Papa are at the elementary school rearranging her classroom. Eliza is a second grade teacher, though why she wants to deal with more kids when she already has seven of her own - and one more on the way - is beyond Fran.

But Eliza likes to work, and she'll stay at work until as long as she can and go back as soon as her maternity leave is up. Papa enjoys being a stay-at-home dad, anyway.

For some reason.

Pip runs into the open-space “dining room” like he's being chased. His eyes are wild, in a way Fran hasn't seen since their grandmother slapped Papa in front of them a good ten years back. His recently cropped curls are in disarray, which is unusual because Pip is pretty vain.

Pip is a year older than Ange - they're Irish twins, another thing that makes Fran question Eliza's sanity - so he’s in his senior year of high school. Just started his first job, has a sweet girlfriend, still high on life. He's usually fairly relaxed and easy-going, which, if his appearance wasn't proof enough, shows that he's more of a Laurens than a Hamilton. On the topic of his appearance, though; if Ange is the spitting image of Alex, Pip is Papa’s carbon copy. It's almost like Eliza didn't actually realize she could input some of her DNA into her children until she had AJ.

Pip doesn't seem chill now, though. He seems panicked. Fran wonders if Aaron Burr finally caught him screwing around with Theo. If so… well, it was nice knowing him. Good thing Fran has other brothers.

Theodosia Burr Jr. herself is a great girl, in Fran's humble opinion. She's sharp, almost as sharp as Ange, and she's kind and helpful. The type to volunteer for a car wash or a bake sale. She also doesn't put up with any of Pip's bullshit, which is exactly the kind of woman he needs in his life.

Ange puts her pen down and turns in her chair so she's facing Pip, and Fran sets her phone down on the countertop. They both want to hear what has him in such a frenzy.

“What's wrong?” Ange asks after the three of them stare at each other in silence for a minute. Pip apparently doesn't get that he can't just barge in like that and not say anything.

“It's Theo,” Pip says.

“Relationship troubles?” Ange asks sympathetically, and Fran whips her head around because  _ what the hell did Ange know about being in a relationship? _

“Who’re you dating, Angelica Hamilton?” demands Fran, momentarily forgetting about Pip's issue.

Angelica flushes and sounds suspiciously flustered when she responds, “No one.”

“It's either Ana or Georges,” Pip cuts in impatiently, like he didn't waste a whole minute staring at them like a madman when they actually wanted to talk about his problems. Fran is pissed that Pip has a better idea of who Ange is dating than she did, and she's doubly pissed that she didn't automatically assume that it's a Lafayette. They spend a lot of time with the Lafayettes since Papa and Alex are close friends with Gil and Adrienne. Fran is pretty sure the two couples got married in the same drunken wedding ceremony.

Eliza is the entirety of Papa and Alex's impulse control.

There are four Lafayette children: Henriette, who is Fran's age, except she has her life together; Anastasie, who is Ange's age and takes all those ridiculous classes with Ange (and if Fran were a betting woman, she'd put her money on Ana being Ange's girlfriend); Georges, the only boy and a freshman (and Fran would assume, too young for Ange to be interested in); and Virginie, who, if Fran remembers correctly, is between AJ and Jamie in age, which makes her thirteen.

“Ana? You're dating Ana de Lafayette?” Fran questions.

“Yeah, okay, I am, but it's not a big deal,” Ange mutters, and then she adds, “Don't tell Mom, Dad, or Papa.” That's an interesting request, especially because Fran can't picture them or the Lafayettes as anything but delighted about their daughters dating.

“Or Georges, right?” Pip says pointedly, and Fran recalls that  _ oh, yeah _ he mentioned Georges earlier for some reason. He knows something that Fran doesn't. She tries not be hurt by that. She fucking fails, too.

Ange's Psych book suddenly becomes more interesting than their conversation because she turns back to it without responding. She picks up her pen and begins furiously taking notes. “Ange, what happened?” Fran asks, some of the hurt about being left in the dark creeping into her voice.

Ange look up at her with those pitiful doe eyes. She has  _ guilty as fuck _ written all over her face; Fran hopes she never commits a crime ‘cause she'll go straight to jail with that expression.

“I slept with him,” she whispers.

“Oh,  _ hell no,”  _ Fran says. Georges de Lafayette is a little kid. A fresh-faced freshman. He can’t even get a fucking learner’s permit yet. He's too young to be having sex - and at that thought, Fran feels fucking old, but that doesn't make her wrong. And Ange, cheating with her girlfriend's brother? That is  _ fucked _ up, and it seems like she has yet to find the decency to tell either of them. Fran is disappointed in Ange for the first time in a long time. Disappointed that this is another way she turned out to be like Alex.

“I know,” Ange says quickly, “I know, I have to tell Ana, it's- I'm a horrible person.”

Fran normally protest one of her siblings calling themselves horrible, but…  _ damn.  _ Ange really dropped the ball this time. And she's going to make things fucking awkward between them and the Lafayettes.

Pip clears his throat. “If we could stop talking about which Lafayette is speaking French between Ange's legs and get back to my problem, that'd be great,” he says. He doesn't seem concerned about Ange’s actions. Fran hopes that whatever he's so worked up about is fucking important because she doesn't want to be disappointed in him, too.

“Spit it out, Philip,” Fran says, taking her gaze of Ange.

Pip looks a little ruffled that she didn't call him by his nickname. “Theo's pregnant.”

_ “What?” _ Fran and Ange shout in unison. All thoughts of Ange's mistake fly out of Fran's head. What the  _ fuck  _ is up with all these kids? Fran didn't lose her virginity until last year, and yet here are Pip and Ange, fucking around  _ and  _ fucking up.

“Is Theo legal?” Ange asks, and Fran's throat feels very tight because surely,  _ surely _ Pip isn't dumb enough to sleep with the daughter of renown lawyer Aaron Burr - who is one of Alex's many enemies - while she's underage. But Fran would've said a half hour ago that  _ surely _ Pip would never knock anyone up at age eighteen.

“She turned eighteen a month and a half ago,” Pip says, and then he starts worrying his lip with his teeth. Fran can't blame him. That's fucking close. “It was birthday sex, okay?  _ Eighteenth _ birthday sex.”

Ange picks up her phone from where it sits beside her textbooks while she works. “Just what I thought - age of consent is seventeen here.” She holds up her phone, and Fran and Pip stare at the Google search she just typed in, ‘age of consent new york,’ and Pip breathes a sigh of relief at the results, which all say seventeen in roundabout, legal sorts of ways. Something tells Fran that the birthday sex was  _ not _ the first time.

“What's this sixteen to thirteen stuff?” Pip says, peering closer at the search. Fran doesn't know or care what he's referring to. She's still thinking about how Theo is  _ pregnant,  _ which is still a big fucking deal even if Burr can't brand Pip a sexual predator over it.

“If you were seventeen, and she was sixteen, you'd still be safe from Burr's wrath on a legal level,” Ange tells him, “because of close-in-age laws.”

“The fuck is a close-in-age law?” Fran asks.

“They keep teenage couples from being treated as harshly in statutory rape cases,” explains Ange, a little sheepishly. Fran frowns when she realizes that Ange knows all of this because she slept with Georges and probably freaked out afterwards. God, that's another fucking mess.

“Well, that doesn't matter,” Pip says, oblivious. “Theo and I are eighteen. She consented, I consented. I’m more worried about… I'm not ready to be a father.”

“So she's keeping it?” asks Ange.

Pip nods. He looks sick; Fran hopes he doesn't throw up. That would just make the fucking day. “Apparently, she's known all week. She says she… considered her options, and she wants to keep it. She also told me… not feel obligated to be the kid's father if… if I thought I couldn't handle it. But… I love Theo.”

Fran is kind of pissed off that Theo didn't consider her options with her goddamn partner, but she pushes that aside because she can't imagine getting pregnant  _ now,  _ let alone at eighteen, and what's done is done anyway.

“Well, you don't have to decide right now,” Ange says softly.

Pip rakes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that's what Theo said. I'm going to talk to Papa about it.” He casts a sideways glance a Fran.

It's no secret that Fran is the result of an accidental teen pregnancy herself. Papa was seventeen when she was born, and her mama was just a few months older. Papa's admitted before that he didn't think he could take be a good father back then. He didn't step up and take any part in her life until Mama died when she was three - and then suddenly she had him and Alex and Eliza in her life, and Pip for a brother. She doesn't resent him for that; she gets it, she really does. She would've done the same.

“I think Papa's going to tell you that if you really don't think you can be there for that kid, then you shouldn't fuck with their head by sticking around until you break,” Fran says.

Pip lets out a heavy breath, but the look in his eyes says that he isn't surprised by Fran's opinion.

“Did you ever hate him?” he asks in a small voice. “For not being there?”

“No,” Fran says. She doesn't tell him that she tried to, when she was thirteen, and Papa sat her down and told her the whole story. He doesn't need to know. Papa doesn’t, either. “I was happy. Right up until Mama got sick. If she hadn't… I think I would've always been happy with her.”

It's hard to tell. She was so young at the time. The couple of memories that she thinks she has of her mama could be nothing more than lost dreams, fractured wishes.

Ange is on the verge of tears. Fran thinks she knows what's running through her head; if Fran's mama hadn't died, would they be sisters? Fran doesn't think so. She thinks she'd be too curious to avoid talking to Papa, and maybe she'd even sit down in a Starbucks with Pip one day, what with him being her biological half-brother and all. Maybe she would've been aware of Ange abstractly, would've known that her half-brother, Philip Hamilton, had a gaggle of half-siblings himself. But they probably wouldn’t have known each other.

Fran used to wonder if she would have different siblings. If her mama would've married. If she really and truly would've been as happy as that Frances Laurens. But she doesn't think about that much anymore. She love Papa, Eliza, and even that rat bastard Alex. She loves Pip and Ange, she loves AJ, Jamie, Will, Jack, and that nameless one that Eliza's growing right now.

Oh, fuck.

Theo and Pip's kid is going to be the same age as Papa, Alex, and Eliza's youngest. They’re going to be in the same grade at the same time. That's… that's weird.

Fran comes to terms with it pretty quickly, though, because it's not that big of a deal in light of what they've already discussed today. Whatever. Her family's fucking weird. So what.

“I think we should go get ice cream,” Fran says abruptly, hopping off the counter.

Pip and Ange slowly exchange one of those  _ has she lost her mind  _ looks. They're not mind readers, they've no clue what she just thought through. It doesn't matter. They don't need to.

“What for?” Pip asks as Ange tries to covertly wipe her face on her sleeve.

“Because it's a family trait to eat our feelings. And we sure as fuck have a lot of feelings right now.”

Ange opens her mouth, probably to argue the validity of that explanation, but AJ chooses that moment to wander into the “dining room.”

“What's this about eating our feelings?” he asks. AJ has a lot of feelings himself. He's fourteen, which Fran is convinced is the worst year of most people's lives because middle school fucking sucks and so does puberty. Even if he weren't at that point in his life, Fran still thinks he's the most emotional kid in the family, having inherited a great amount of sensitivity from Eliza.

“We're going out for ice cream,” Fran says. “Wanna come?” She holds up the keys to Papa’s van; it can accommodate all of them.

“Sure. What's the occasion?”

Fran is about to give him a shrug and tell him they don't need a special occasion to go out, but Pip blurts out, “I’mgoingtobeafather.”

“What? Pip-! You and Theo-?” AJ’s eyes are wide. He's old enough to understand that this might not be as exciting as the last pregnancy announcement was.

“Yeah,” Pip says.

“Holy  _ shit,”  _ says AJ, “have you told Mom, Dad, and Papa yet?”

“Just found out about an hour ago,” Pip tells him. Fran exchanges a worried look with Ange; Pip's had about zero time to process. He must've bolted as soon as Theo told him.

“Well… then we can't tell Will and Jack, but can I tell Jamie?”

Pip smiles. “Sure. Then get all three of them. Fran wants to get ice cream.”

AJ runs out of the room, and about a minute and a half later they heard Jamie shout,  _ “What?!”  _ from upstairs. Ange starts laughing, and it's infectious. When AJ, Jamie, Will, and Jack come into the room, they're all still laughing. AJ and Jamie beam at them because they both know.

“What's so funny?” demands ten year old Will. He's old enough to know they're keeping a secret from him, but, unfortunately, he'd blurt it out as soon as Papa and Eliza walk in the door if they told him. Jack just looks around at all of them like they've lost their minds. Fran wishes she was that young again.

“Nothing,” singsongs Jamie. He takes the moments when he can be an asshole older brother when he can. Fran's so proud.

Will pouts.

“We're going out for ice cream,” Fran tells her two youngest brothers.

Jack's face lights up instantly. “Ice cream!” he cheers, and he disappears into the foyer to grab his shoes.

“Is it a dirty joke?” Will asks. “Because you can tell me now that Jack's gone.”

Fran shakes her head. “No dirty jokes here. Go put your shoes on.”

Will frowns, but he shuffles off into the foyer. AJ and Jamie go after him, smiling stupid  _ we're gonna be uncles  _ smiles at each other. Fran wishes she could muster one of her own, but sadly, she knows the true complexities of the situation.

Fran is left alone with her two oldest baby siblings again.

“You both know we've got to talk about this shit some more later,” she says, “and by  _ this shit,  _ I mean your completely irresponsible sex lives.” Pip and Ange share a grimace at that, but they also nod.

“Did you use a condom, Pip?” Ange asks suddenly, interrupting Fran's attempt to be sisterly.

Pip scratches his head, expression sheepish. “Yeah, but, um… did you guys know that that you shouldn't store them in your car?”

“Oh my God,” says Ange. “We learned that in like, eighth grade. I bet AJ would know that if we asked him.”

“I slept during that class.”

“Why?” Fran asks incredulously, “that's the most relevant one they offer.”

Pip shrugs. “I was going through my teen angst bullshit phase. Didn't think I'd ever get laid.”

That sends the three of them into another fit of giggles, and then Jack zooms back into the room screaming, “ICCCE CREAMMMM!” at the top of his lungs. Pip scoops Jack up and sets him on his shoulders, which just causes Jack to shriek louder.

Fran herds the kids out to the van. Today… has been a mess. But she thinks her family's going to be okay. It always is.


End file.
